


Memento Mori

by Midnight_Ophelia



Series: Memento Mori [1]
Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Drama, Gen, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:01:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4229781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_Ophelia/pseuds/Midnight_Ophelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The years passed. Three hundred. Nine hundred. A thousand. They all blended together, and Sorin lost track of how exactly long he had been living for. Time became irrelevant to him. He simply traveled and experienced, watched planes rise, fall, and rise again in different ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memento Mori

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, I got into Magic the Gathering during the Theros block and more than two years later I finally got into the storyline.
> 
> Anyone who goes through my AO3 or even knows me in real life is probably aware that I adore vampires (someone stamp my Goth card, please), so, it's really no surprise that the Planeswalker I immediately gravitated to was Sorin. Since I started digging into the storyline, I've sorta been curious about the sort of person he might have been when he was human and before he was this ancient, knowledgeable creature. What we know about him outside the storylines he's appeared in has been vague at best and with Origins coming out in a few weeks, I thought why not write my own interpretation of what his history might have been. Granted, whenever we do get more information on him, this one-shot will be very firmly in the realm of Bullshit.
> 
> Throughout the course of writing this, I realized that there's a lot more I wanted to go into that I didn't have the energy, or time really, to do, which leads me to believe that you'll see more from this 'Verse.
> 
> With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy this thing, and shout-out to my irl friends that have been sitting around, waiting patiently, for me to finally release this. It's here. Ya'll can relax now.

_**I** _

The wind in what would later become Stensia was strangely hot and arid for a fall day, carrying with it the scent of the cracking and dry dirt. It blew around him, tugging at his hair and clothes as he walked beside what was once a bubbling and energetic stream. It had long since become as dry and barren as the rest of the landscape, leaving nothing but rocks like bones and the empty husks of dead plants.

“Sorin? What are you doing out here?”

Sorin Markov stopped walking mid-step and turned to see who had addressed him. “I could ask the same of you, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth Voldaren, cousin of Olivia Voldaren, flashed Sorin a tired, but nonetheless dazzling smile, trotting over to join him at his side. “Ah, fair point. I actually came down here looking for you. You've been out here for hours. The sun's going down.”

Sorin looked to where the sun, what was visible of it from behind the clouds, was just starting to dip behind the horizon. Sorin blinked. Had he really been outside for that long? He must have gotten lost in his thoughts. That did tend to happen from time to time.

“I see,” he replied, pushing hair out of his face only for it to fall right back into it. “I didn't mean to concern you.”

Elizabeth chuckled and reached up to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. Her hand lingered and slid down to trace his cheek. “I'm sorry to say this, but you always concern me. What with your constant frowning and avoiding anyone that isn't me.”

Elizabeth was beautiful even as thin as she had become due to the famine and the limited supply of food still left in this part of Innistrad. They had grown up together, Elizabeth spending far more time in the remote Markov Manor than in her cousin's home, and they had grown close despite Sorin's standoffish nature. He cared more about her than he did most people. In fact, she was one of the few people he could honestly call a friend. He was internally grateful for it. He was aware that he was not an easy person to get along with and Elizabeth had an enviable amount of patience.

“Have you eaten anything?” Elizabeth asked, looping her arm around Sorin's as she began to lead him back towards the manor.

He hadn't. He'd given his minuscule lunch to a serving woman whom looked in need of it more than he did. She had protested, of course, since he was her better, but she had eventually relented and accepted it. There was some small sense of relief in the thought that she wouldn't go as hungry that day. So many had already died.

“I...haven't,” Sorin answered, kicking at a rock with a booted foot. It skittered some distance and off to the side.

Elizabeth gave him a sideways glance, lips turned downwards in disapproval. “When was the last time you have eaten anything at all?”

It had been a few days.

Sorin didn't have to say anything for Elizabeth to gather as much for herself.

“Sorin, it won't do anyone any good if you starve yourself to death.” She unlinked their arms and took his hand. “There's nothing you can do about the famine, even if your grandfather thinks otherwise.”

Sorin looked down at their entwined fingers. He shrugged weakly. “It's more than I have managed. All I can do is hope that something changes and give food away.”

Elizabeth sighed dramatically. “Oh, Sorin.”

They made their way up the winding and dangerous path to the manor, and by the time they reached the summit and staggered in through the doors, they were both breathing hard from the excursion. Sorin leaned heavily against the door frame and swiped a hand over his brow.

“I'm fine,” he muttered as Elizabeth hovered near his side, resting a hand on his shoulder and staring up at him with all the concern she possessed. His pride bristled. “I'm just winded. I forgot how long it takes to get up here by foot.”

“I shouldn't have made you walk all the way back,” Elizabeth lamented, helping support Sorin's larger frame as they made off to one of the elegant sitting rooms. “I should have sent for a carriage. You don't have the energy to go through all of that.”

“It wasn't necessary,” Sorin snapped. As quickly as his temper had flared, it burnt out and something akin to regret flashed over his features. “We're already here at any rate.”

“Stubborn man.” Elizabeth shook her head and turned to a serving girl who had appeared. “Get us something to drink and make it quick, if you would.”

“Of course, my lady.” The girl ran off towards the kitchens.

“It's quiet,” Sorin noted, dropping down onto one of the couches sitting in front of a large fireplace. “I'm not used to so much silence.”

“Edgar's been occupied so most of the remaining servants are elsewhere,” Elizabeth explained, sitting across from Sorin. “No sense in keeping so many people here.”

Sorin scoffed. A few minutes later the servant girl returned with a decanter of red wine and two glasses. Sorin took one of the glasses and filled it, sipping at it. The drink hit his empty stomach like a bag of rocks. Water would have been a better choice, but what little remained needed to be conserved for when it would be most needed.

“He's been in the basement for days, making no progress.” Sorin turned his glass between his fingers. His too thin face reflected back at him. He'd been called handsome, but it was difficult to view himself as such when his eyes and cheeks had sunken and shadowed and his hair was lank. He quickly moved the glass away from him. “There's nothing to be done about it.”

“He is trying,” Elizabeth half-defended, swirling her drink. Red stained the edges of the crystal, looking uncomfortably like blood. “Something has to be said about tenacity. If anyone can solve this, it would be him.”

“I know this.”

Edgar Markov, his grandfather and the patriarch of the Markov family, was a 'renowned' alchemist throughout Innistrad. He had been grooming his only grandson to take up his mantle upon his death. The idea was fairly laughable. The man wasn't likely to die anytime soon, which was fine by Sorin. He didn't have any inclination of taking over the business. It didn't matter that Edgar brought it up whenever possible.

The sound of Elizabeth setting down her glass pulled Sorin out of his mire of thoughts. She moved over to sit by him, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder.

“You are aware that he's partially doing this for you.” Elizabeth tenderly brushed her fingers over his knee. “You're his legacy. He wouldn't know what to do if you died on him.”

Sorin grabbed her hand. “He does it for himself. He doesn't want to die and loosing me would put a dent in his plans.”

He could sense Elizabeth's smile more than see it. “Maybe so, but can you blame him? I think he cares a great deal about you even if he doesn't admit it.”

“You give the man far too much credit,” Sorin said dryly.

To be completely honest, Sorin wasn't entirely certain when the rift between himself and Edgar had began to form, but it was there and the famine had only increased the chasm between them. Edgar had become utterly obsessed with solving the problem, spending all of his time in the basement laboratory tinkering with the alchemical formulas that made little sense to Sorin even with his knowledge.

“Sorin.”

Speaking of the devil in question...

Sorin stood up and turned towards the doorway where Edgar stood, dressed in elegant velvet clothes and his hair neatly smoothed back from his face. He immediately pinned his grandson under his dark and impenetrable stare, brows furrowed and mouth turned down into a pinched frown. His usual expression; Sorin was far too used to seeing such a look on his face to be effected by it.

“Grandfather,” Sorin greeted coolly, inclining his head just slightly.

“Come with me,” Edgar said, turning on his heel and leaving the room without any other word.

Sorin sighed and looked to Elizabeth. “I'm sorry.”

She rose and pressed a kiss to the corner of Sorin's mouth. “Please, don't be. Go, speak to Edgar. If you wish to talk with me later, I will be in my room.”

It was with much reluctance that Sorin followed Edgar downstairs and he was immediately assaulted by the smell of alchemical components when he entered the basement. It took a moment for his nose to adjust to the smell and to be able to see in the gloom.

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Sorin asked condescendingly, examining a bowl of sulfur sitting on the wooden table on one side of the room. “Something important I would hope.”

Edgar moved over to him, frowning still.

“Mind your tone, boy,” he warned. “But yes, important. I thought that you would be interested in knowing that I have made some progress on my research.”

"Oh?” Sorin sat the bowl down and crossed his arms, cocking a hip to lean against the table. He raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

“There is a possible ritual that can help with the feeding of our people.” Edgar smiled as much as could be considered as him smiling.

“How?” Sorin was curious, but there was a sense of foreboding with Edgar's words, and the gleam in his eyes set Sorin's nerves on edge. “I didn't know you had made so much advancement since the last time we talked.”

“It's a fairly straightforward ritual, nothing complicated I assure you,” Edgar informed him, starting to mix together various ingredients. “Tomorrow is the harvest moon, the perfect time to begin it.”

“And you want for me to participate in it.” The answer was obvious.

“You are a talented mage, Sorin, and those talents should be put to good use.” Edgar patted Sorin's back with that smile that could barely be considered as much. “You should trust your grandfather.”

He really didn't.

* * *

 

Sorin went to bed shortly after the conversation with Edgar, not having the energy to go talk to Elizabeth beforehand.

It took him far longer to fall asleep than he would have liked, and by the time he did, his dreams were nightmarish and filled with blood and terrified screams. He awoke with a start the moment the sun rose, covered in sweat and blood on his lips from where he'd bitten them in his restless sleep.

Sorin spent the rest of the day hidden away in his room, avoiding interaction with everyone else in the household. At one point Elizabeth came up to check on him and he'd sent her away, claiming that he had a headache. He could tell from the look on her face that she hadn't believed him, but she thankfully did not push the subject, doing as he had requested.

Unbeknownst to him, he would regret that decision and it would be his greatest regret.

The day passed much too quickly and the sun had just set when Sorin was, at last, sent for.

He was slow to make his way down to the basement, moving reluctantly through the large manor, and when he'd finally reached it, he found Edgar already there, lighting the candles that were on each point of a large pentagram that covered the center of the room's floor, representing each mana. In the middle of the pentagram was an ornate alter with two silver bowls and an athame, it's blade glinting in the candle light.

“Ah, Sorin, excellent. You've arrived. Now, we can get started.” Edgar was dressed in black robes and an amulet draped around his neck. He quickly ushered for Sorin to join him at the alter. “I would like for you to cast the circle.”

Sorin nodded and picked up the athame. He walked around the pentagram, pointing the tip of the anthame aimed inwards, uttering a quiet chant to protect those who stood inside the circle. Once done, he sat the knife back down on the alter and waited until Edgar joined him. As he joined Sorin, he spoke strange, arcane words in a language Sorin didn't know and could make no sense out of. The hairs on the back of Sorin's neck stood on end and he briefly considered moving away.

As Edgar's words came to a close, the air grew thick with magic, dark and stifling, and each flame on the candles flared, reaching up towards the ceiling.

“What now?” Sorin asked, more to himself than to Edgar. He did not like the way the room felt like it was threatening to suffocate him with its thick intensity and that every nerve in his body tingled uncomfortably.

“Now,” Edgar started. He picked up one of the silver bowls and the athame and turned towards the doors. “We need one more component. Bring her in.”

The doors swung open and in stepped Elizabeth, escorted by two guards on each side of her, gripping her arms. Her eyes were large and startled as she looked from Edgar to Sorin with confusion. She was dressed in a long sheer white gown with a plunging neckline. Beneath the hem, her feet were bare, and her hair hung in loose, red waves down to her waist. It was nothing like she would have normally worn, and something told Sorin that it hadn't been her decision to wear it.

Elizabeth was pulled to the center of the circle and Edgar moved to stand in front of her. Without warning, he swiped the blade across her throat, holding the bowl just below it as the blood fell.

It took several long seconds for Sorin to register what had just happened.

“What have you done?” he asked hoarsely, watching as Elizabeth's body was lowered to the ground, the front of her gown saturated with the blood that hadn't gone in the bowl.

“I did was the entirely necessary,” Edgar replied impassively as he sat the blood-filled bowl back onto the alter beside the other one. “The blood of the an innocent is powerful, especially from a family like hers. Olivia had even sanctioned Elizabeth's use for this. She will be used for a good cause.”

Sorin knelt beside Elizabeth's body, closing her eyes. She hadn't deserved this. She hadn't asked for it. And for what? A ritual that might not even work? It was pointless.

“What is this all for? Really?” Sorin ground out, standing up and turning away from the sight of her body. “There has got to be more to this then what you have told me.”

Edgar poured the contents of one bowl into another and stirred it. “As I told you; to feed our people. There may not be any food that this land can produce right now, but that does not mean that there are not alternative means to handle over-population and feed hungry mouths. Starting with the noble houses, of course.”

“I will not be involved in any more of this. I'm through.” Sorin went to leave, but he was quickly restrained by the two guards and forced onto his knees beside Elizabeth's body. “Don't do this.”

Edgar ignored him and instead spoke, addressing someone or something that Sorin couldn't see.

“Shilgengar! I've done as requested!” Edgar called, raising his arms out at his sides. “I ask that you follow through with your gift!”

There was no response that Sorin could hear, but Edgar grabbed the bowl once more, raised it, and, to Sorin's disgust, drank the blood from it. For a moment, nothing happened and then all at once Edgar sank to the floor, clawing at his head, body contorting in clear pain. This last several long moments until he went still. For a moment, Sorin thought perhaps he'd died from the pain of whatever he was going through, but alas, Edgar's eyes opened and fixated on Sorin's face. They were no longer the dark brown he'd had previous and instead the whites had gone black and the iris' had gone a silver so bright it could have been mistaken for being white.

Those eyes glazed over and his head cocked to the side, listening to something.

“Very well,” he said suddenly, making Sorin jump. Edgar's eyes focused again. “Hold him still.”

“Don't do this,” Sorin not quite pleaded, hoping that maybe his words might stand a chance of getting through to Edgar, but it was clear that they weren't. That spell had done something and whatever it was wasn't what he had anticipated happening. “Have some sense.”

Edgar stood in front of him, studying him with his strange eyes. “This is a gift, Sorin. What I'm going to give you is a gift of the highest honor. You'll be ageless, and stronger than any human could ever hope to be. You'll be impervious to human disease and hunger caused by things like this famine.”

To anyone not aware of what the ramifications might be, it would have sounded like an appealing idea, getting to live forever, but there was something darker under the surface. There was always a cost to these sorts of things and Sorin knew that this would be no different.

Edgar leaned down and shoved Sorin's shirt away from the crook of his neck, exposing it to the chilly basement air.

“What-” Sorin's response was cut off when Edgar abruptly bit down, surprisingly sharp teeth piercing the flesh between his shoulder and his neck.

It hurt, but it was nothing when compared to after blood from the same bowl Edgar drank from was forced down his throat. He choked on it, tried to expel it as the copper tang filled his mouth, but Edgar made sure it was swallowed, all the while trying to reassure Sorin that the pain would be a fairly short affair and worth the benefits that would come from it. That pain filled every nerve, every single inch of his body, burning like fire from the inside out.

And then it stopped and something awoke in his chest. It flared brightly, blooming like a flower. Sorin didn't have a moment to try and comprehend it before his vision went white, then dark.

* * *

 

_**II** _

 Sorin couldn't recall what happened after he had blacked out, only that when he eventually came to, he was no longer in the basement of Markov Manor. Above him was an open sky, blue and bright and not marred by clouds. His skin prickled as the sunlight hit it, not enough to hurt but certainly uncomfortable. He sat up slowly as he squinted to see around himself.

The land around him was not that of Innistrad; no craggy mountains or foreboding forests filled with Werewolves and Geists. All that was visible was a landscape of tall, blood red Poppies filling fields without a single sign of civilization to be seen. The air was thick with the scent of them and Sorin's nose scrunched up as it was assaulted by the too pungent smell. It was as bad as this too bright sky. Why did everything have to be so blindingly bright?

Sorin staggered to his feet and found a tree close enough to him that he could duck under for shade. He sighed in relief as his skin was saved by the cool shadows. Hidden, he took the opportunity to try and get his bearings.

The first thing he concluded was that he had absolutely not the faintest inkling of where he was or how he had even gotten there. The memories from before were there, starkly standing out to him as he tried not to think about it. He didn't have the fortitude to deal with them until he figured all of this out first. The second thing that occurred to him was that he was hungry, ravenously so, but the idea of food caused nausea to bubble up in his chest.

Suddenly tired, Sorin sat down under the tree and stared out at the land in front of him.

What was he supposed to do?

He had no idea where he was or where he would go from there. This land was foreign to him, so different from his homeland.

Sorin had heard of planeswalking before (Innistrad sometimes having a visitor from somewhere else entirely), but it was such a rare feat that he had never considered the idea of him doing so himself. It was the only way he could think of that he could so abruptly get to whatever this world was. The details on the phenomenon that he had read had been sketchy at best, but the feeling he had in his chest told him that what he knew was true. He had become a Planeswalker.

A Planeswalker and something else.

He thought of Elizabeth.

He had never gotten the chance to speak to her one more time. He had sent her away and inadvertently to her death.

When he thought of Edgar, Sorin felt a dark hatred in his bones. He want to rip his heart out. No, that was too quick for him. He would suffer him slowly before he'd even begin to think of ending him. What sort of fool made a deal with a demon?

Sorin didn't need confirmation to know that was what his grandfather had done. Sure, demons were few and far between, but not unheard of, and the darkness of the ritual could really only be demonic in nature.

The fool.

Disdain and bitterness simmered in his heart as Sorin decided to wait for nightfall before he would venture out.

* * *

Sorin's sleep wasn't remotely restful as he tossed and turned during the daylight hours. Like before the ritual that started all of this, his sleep was plagued with nightmares filled with blood and screams. Elizabeth appeared at one point, her smile sweet even as her throat was tore open and her blood drenched her gown. She reached out to him, stroking his cheek and leaving streaks of red in its wake.

His eyes snapped open and a stranger's face came into view. Reacting out of instinct, he lashed out. The stranger was lucky enough to possess quick enough reflexes to jump out of the way as a blast of black mana fueled magic shot at them.

“Easy there, boy,” a female's voice said, laughter coloring their words. “I don't mean you any harm.”

When Sorin's vision refocused, he found the source of that voice to be a tall woman with dusky skin, dark brown hair, and dressed in a form-fitting pair of trousers and a loose top. What caught his attention, however, where her irises that mirrored the same crimson red as the Poppies around her. She grinned down at him, revealing a mouthful of sharp, pointed, teeth.

“Have we calmed down yet?” she asked, raising a thin, arched eyebrow.

Sorin readied the use of more mana and put space between himself and the woman. If she was a threat, he had enough energy to at least toss her back several feet. “Who are you,” he asked through clenched teeth and a scowl.

“I'm called Zdena.” She gave an exaggerated, but elegant, bow. “And since we're proceeding with the introductions, could I possibly have yours?”

“Sorin Markov,” he replied, edgily.

He didn't trust this woman, but she had him at a very distinct disadvantage. She was a native and familiar with the surroundings, which he was not, and at full strength, something else that he was not.

“Pleased.” Zdena's strange eyes scanned slowly up Sorin's form and stopped at his face. “You aren't from around here,” she stated at last.

Sorin sighed, leaning against the tree trunk. “What gave me away precisely.”

“Well, to start, I know all the faces of this plane and your's is not one I've seen before. I'd remember it if I have. Second, you aren't human.” Sorin's expression must have shown his confusion and slowly dawning realization. “Ah, you didn't know that. Interesting.”

Sorin had been trying to avoid thinking about the implications of what Edgar's ritual might have done to him, but he had known deep down that something was decidedly...off.

“I don't know what I am.” He didn't like the way his voice wavered as he spoke or the way his fingers trembled just enough to show how shaken up he was. He swallowed thickly before he could continue. “Since you don't seem surprised by this, what are you? And don't lie to me. I've seen my fair share of non-humans, too.”

Zdena laughed lowly. “Fair enough. There's a few names we choose to go by, but there is one that is more universally known. Vampire. We drink blood from the living to sustain us. We're immortal. Well, ageless. We can be killed. We're still flesh and blood, too, after all.”

Vampire.

The word clicked something in his head. Was that what he was now? He thought back to Edgar's drinking the blood first from the bowl and then his. He had said that he'd found an alternative means to feed their people and help with population control. It all made a twisted sort of sense. It made Sorin feel ill, but it really did make sense. With blood, their people would no longer be dependent on the failing crops or the lack of water.

Sorin hadn't noticed that he'd blanked out until Zdena's pale hand came into his line of sight, inches from his face. “Come with me. I can tell you have questions that are in need of answers, and I think it would be far better if we did this some place a bit more private than beneath a tree.”

Not feeling like he had a whole lot of a choice, Sorin took her hand and stood up to follow her.

* * *

Zdena led Sorin some way until they reached a deep, rocky gorge. After some careful climbing down, Zdena showed him over to a large boulder, larger than the rest, but still blended in enough that no one would think anything of it. With a push of mana, the boulder rolled over just enough to revel a deep tunnel leading beneath the land. It was tall and wide enough for two people to walk through with one in front of the other.

There were torches lining the walls that lit their way as they walked, their boots sending an echo down ahead of them. Sorin noted runes scratched into the rock, although he couldn't read any of them. He followed behind Zdena closely until the tunnel widened out into an impossibly large cavern.

Inside the cavern were hundreds of houses built into the rock, climbing up to the top of the cavern. They were intricate in design and plenty expansive enough that more than one family could possibly live in them. Back behind the houses was a waterfall that ran down the wall, leading to a small creek, and ended at a large pool of water that sat in the center of the room. Around the lake were tall silver trees with shimmering white leaves. Sorin had never seen anything like it before and was momentarily dazed until Zdena spoke again.

“Silver Lake is a city like no other.” Her voice was full of boasting as she gazed out over it with a fond smile. “A truly beautiful place, don't you agree?”

“It's...something,” Sorin replied, the trance breaking. It explained why he hadn't seen anything that resembled civilization on the surface of the Plane. “Are all cities here like this one?”

“More or less. Below ground we don't need to worry about the sun. This is a vampire city after all. “Zdena flashed her pointed teeth at him. “While here you'll be safe from its rays. And be well fed. You look like you're about to fall over.”

Sorin ignored that.

They moved farther in and Zdena showed him the various shops and wares, introduced him to residents, and finally brought him to her home. Like the rest of the homes, hers was carved into the stone, and the interior was furnished in reds, blacks, and golds. Candles supplied some light and was far more soothing for his eyes than that of the sun.

“There's a spare room for you to stay in towards the back. It's perfectly comfortable. Tomorrow we'll discuss your...predicament.”

Sorin found himself unable to muster the energy to argue with her. Instead, he found the room she had mentioned and admitted that it was a rather nice one. The furniture were all matching dark woods and the bed was a large four-poster sort with a fluffy feather mattress and velvet and silk coverings. He was half-tempted to go straight to sleep, but put off the urge first so that he could bathe the dirt and, alarmingly, blood off of him in a large tub he found hidden behind a screen meant for privacy. He managed to find water to heat up in the fireplace and sighed as he sank into the bath, the heat soothing his muscles.

He scrubbed his skin, washing away all the grime, turning the water a ugly mix of brown and pink.

Sorin stayed in the bath until the water went cold. He dried off slowly with a towel and when he stepped out from behind the screen, he found clothes laid out on the bed, someone having come in while he wasn't paying attention, which was mildly disconcerting. That was twice too many times for a single day that someone had managed to get that close to him without him knowing.

He changed into the clothes, glad that they fit relatively well, and stretched out on the bed.

Sorin knew that he couldn't stay in this place forever. He needed to return eventually to Innistrad, however he did that, and confront Edgar, he needed to know what he was precisely and if it could be undone.

While he'd been getting dressed, he had caught a glance at himself in a reflective surface and had been surprised by what he'd seen in it.

When he'd last seen himself, he'd been thin and weary looking, a toll taken on him by the famine, and now his body had gained back its former weight and muscle. That in itself would have been unusual to happen in such a quick amount of time, but there had been other physical changes as well. His skin that had once been the typical sort of pale that all the residents of Innistrad had had turned an ashen gray, his eyes were alien, like Edgar's had been' with golden irises surrounded by black, and his hair was a shock of white. Inside his mouth his canines had pointed to fangs. He ran his tongue across them.

With his mind mired in thoughts, Sorin fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

* * *

He had no idea what time it was when he'd dragged himself out of the bed and out into the other room where he found Zdena lounging on a sofa, reading. He didn't recognize the runes written on the cover.

“Good evening, Sorin. Did you sleep well?” she asked, not looking away from her reading.

“Better than I have lately, yes.” Sorin dropped down into one of the chairs. “Why are you helping me? You have no idea who I am or where I've come from. Why are you willing to trust me, and better yet, why should I trust you?”

At his questions, Zdena turned her attention to Sorin, eyebrows raised. “Is there something wrong with helping someone in need from where you're from? Has common courtesy gone out of fashion on other Planes? You never did tell me where you're from.”

Sorin narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think that I should tell you?”

“Don't play coy. It doesn't suit you,” Zdena said, putting her book down and walking over to him. “I know everyone, as I said, and I do not recognize you. Your aura, your very presence is unusual and unsettling. Powerful and dark. If a little unstable. Tell me, are you hungry?”

Sorin had done a remarkably good job of ignoring the discomfort of the hunger pangs, but now that they'd been brought up, he was painfully aware of them. He winced.

“As I thought. You're like me, but different.”

“Stop being vague and get to your point.”

“Oh, very well.” Zdena dropped all and any pretense and straddled Sorin's legs, leaning in close to his ear. “I know that you're a vampire. Not only that, but you are a Planeswalker. There's power in these veins that you've yet to learn how to control and learn to utilize. I can teach you how to do just that if you would allow me to.”

“How do you know of Planeswalkers?” Sorin tried to keep his temper in check. “You aren't one.”

He wasn't entirely sure how he knew for a fact that she wasn't one, but he knew it.

“No, I'm not, which is unfortunate because I think it'd be fun.” Zdena smiled. “I know of you the same way that you do. Study. Like you, I have a love of learning. The more forbidden, the better.”

Sorin stood up abruptly, causing Zdena to do the same lest she end up taking a nasty spill onto the floor. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“You'll learn plenty from me and you're by no means required to stay here. You can leave whenever you wish. I'm a mage, a master of Sangromancy. With time, you could easily surpass me. In fact, you could become better than any. I would welcome it.”

“But why do you want me to?” Sorin had heard of Sangromancy, even dabbled into it from time to time out of curiosity. It was a magic that was part of the darkest corners of black mana usage, an offshoot of Necromancy, but instead of bringing the dead back, it instead leeched the life out of others and could even control a person.

“Because no one else has and I like a challenge.”

She sounded sincere and Sorin could see nothing on Zdena's face that told him she was lying. He could agree to her offer and put off going back to Innistrad or he could turn her down and go about his way. He did want to confront Edgar, but there was another part that preferred the idea waiting until he'd gained the power to take him on with ease. So, Sorin nodded, slowly, in agreement.

“Fine, I'll do it.”

“Excellent.” Zdena clapped her hands twice and the front door swung open. A young human boy walked in carrying a tray with a decanter and two crystal glasses. “Lets drink to it.”

Sorin took one of the glasses offered to him, eyeing the decanter. The scent of blood wafted to his nose and he found his gag reflexes while his gums ached around his fangs.

“Your human squeamishness will fade with time,” Zdena comforted, sipping her 'wine'. “The trick is to accept what you are and embrace everything that comes with it, including the blood.”

Sorin knew that there would be no going back, no matter how he might wish that there was a way to do so. Accepting it seemed easier than trying to change it.

* * *

The years blended one into another as Sorin learned from Zdena, not just Sangromancy, but the finer points of being a vampire, and the knowledge of being a Planeswalker.

It turned out that Zdena hadn't been entirely truthful about how she had known about Planeswalkers. Silver Lake had its fair share of Planeswalkers visiting from time to time, passing through on their way to their destinations. They never visited the actual city and was presumably ignorant of the city of vampires lurking beneath their feet. When Sorin had confronted Zdena about it, he had been rightfully upset that this information had been withheld. He didn't appreciate being lied to.

Their relationship was complicated from the beginning. It had seemed simple at first. Sorin didn't particularly care about Zdena emotionally and he had garnered that she had felt the same way. They both had something the other wanted, but neither wanted the emotional attachment and so put a sort of distance between themselves to prevent such a thing from happening. Unfortunately, certain...needs came into play and they realized that emotional detachment wouldn't come as easily as they had hoped.

There had also been Sorin's early attempts to avoid having to feed on blood. He had only lasted a few days before it had become too much and the bloodlust reached unbearable levels. It had all come crashing down when he had come across a group of humans unlucky enough to be in the same vicinity of himself. The result had been gruesome and Sorin had learned the outcome of not drinking blood. Needless to say, there was no second attempt.

Over time, Sorin explored other Planes, learned what he could from them as he learned how to use this strange ability he had been given. It wasn't always the most accurate method of travel and sometimes he ended up in interesting positions and places. Including that one time he had ended up in the middle of the lake.

“Are you really going to go back to Innistrad?”

Sorin looked up to see Zdena. He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem if I do?”

She sauntered over and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. “No, this is your decision. I have to admit, however, that I will miss having you around. I've come to enjoy your presence.”

“Likewise, I suppose.”

Zdena pulled away and walked around to face him. She smiled. “I have a gift for you that I think you will like.”

A servant walked into what had become Sorin's room during his stay carrying a long object wrapped in a thick velvet cloth. Zdena took it from them and presented it to Sorin.

He took it carefully and unwrapped it slowly. Beneath the cloth was an elegant Greatsword. He unsheathed it and saw that there was a vine design etched into the the thickest part of the blade that crawled its way up and across the guard and carried up into the shape of the pommel. The light that hit the blade seemed to be sucked into it. It was a work of master craftsmanship.

“Where did you get this?” Sorin asked, re-sheathing it.

“It's an ancient weapon. No one really knows where it originally came from or who made it,” Zdena replied, watching his reaction eagerly. “Its called the Parasite Blade. I thought it suited you.”

“Thank-you,” Sorin murmured, strapping the weapon to his hip. He ran his hand over the hilt absently.

“There's more to it then meets the eye. I hope that you'll be able to discover all it's secrets.”

“Perhaps.” It vibrated beneath his fingers with power, hungering for battle and for the taste of blood. In time, he'd let it. “I guess we'll see.”

* * *

Sorin planeswalked and thankfully made it to Innistrad on his first attempt. There was no mistaking the place for anywhere else. The skies were overcast and the mood struggled to peek out from behind the thick grey-green clouds. He expected that it would storm at any time.

“Sorin?”

Sorin turned at the sound of the familiar voice, feeling the urge to planeswalk right out of there, and saw Olivia Voldaren's tall and beautiful figure standing not far from him. He didn't want to see her, he didn't want to talk to her. The only person he want to see less was the one residing in Markov Manor.

“Olivia,” he greeted from behind gritted teeth, making little show at pleasantries.

He knew immediately that Olivia had changed. Her hair had always been red, but had become more vibrant and her skin had gone gray, like his own. Her eyes glinted black and red in the dark.

“Edgar changed you.”

Olivia smiled, not at all put off by his rudeness. Polite as always, the matriarch of the Voldaren family. “Anointed, darling. And I took it willingly.”

“But why?” Sorin knew why. Immortality, the eternal youth, and eternal beauty. He had known her long enough to perfectly understand her motivations, but he wanted to hear it from her mouth.

“The same reason as anyone would. I don't wish to die and this assures that I will no longer have that fear.”

“...Why are you here?” Sorin crossed his arm irritably.

“I was only paying Edgar a visit. Why are you so suspicious?” Olivia returned, brushing her hands over her dress to rid it of some imaginary dirt. She smiled. It was cold and empty of any real emotion. “It's been years since anyone has seen you. A fair few thought that you were dead.”

“But you did not,” Sorin said flatly.

“Edgar told me what happened after the ritual. You're quite strong. I very much doubt that you would die after something like that.”

Sorin scowled darkly. “What about Elizabeth? You let her be sacrificed for the sake of Edgar's selfishness.”

The smiled on Olivia's face flickered away. “I know you loved her, but it was necessary. Her blood was the last key component. I'm sure this was explained to you. Angel blood, demon blood, and human blood all combined to give fruition to our power and agelessness.”

Sorin wished he could clench his teeth more. “She didn't deserve to die for this.”

Olivia's smile returned. “You'll understand her sacrifice was needed in time. You'll appreciate what you are.”

Zdena had told him the same thing, but even after several years of living with what he was it had yet to make complete sense. He appreciated the power he had, he wasn't going to lie about that, but Elizabeth's death would always linger in his consciousness. That guilt was on his shoulders to carry.

“Go talk to Edgar. Perhaps he can get you to see what sense there is.”

Olivia left Sorin to glare at the doors leading into Markov Manor as if he was willing it to catch on fire.

* * *

The manor hadn't changed and the only thing that really stood out were the pair of vampire guards standing outside the doors. They greeted him warmly, bowing deeply at the waist. Sorin's response to it was far more terse.

When he entered, he heard them whispering as he walked away. Probably about how his attitude had made no improvement during his time away.

It took some searching for Sorin to locate Edgar and he found him in one of the towers, staring out at the villages in the distance. Sorin glared at his back and knew that Edgar was aware that he was standing there.

“Welcome back, Sorin,” Edgar said at last, turning to look at Sorin with silver-black eyes. “I hope that you enjoyed your time away.”

Sorin broke his stare and looked to the glass of blood sitting on the table between them. It felt like it was mocking him, placed there to deliberately remind him that blood was his life now and he had best get used to it. He was enslaved to it. Just its very presence in the room was enough to set the hunger off. That was another thing he had learned from Zdena; vampires were in a constant state of hunger. Some were just better at resisting its pull.

“Would you like something to drink,” Edgar asked mockingly as he gestured to the glass. “There's plenty available. You'll find that we've done a very good job finding the best sources available.”

Sorin curled his lip in disdain. “I would much rather not.”

Edgar shrugged with indifference and picked it up to take a sip of it himself. “Suit yourself.” After a moment, he added with a sigh, “Why did you bother coming back if you only want to vex me?”

“Because this is my home. Call it misguided, but I'm still loyal to it's people. Even if I'm no longer human.”

Edgar scoffed softly. “How sentimental. Well, either way, your room is still where it has always been.”

Sorin made no comment and simply turned on his heel and left. He made his way back to his room on the other side of the manor. As he walked, he passed a few servants -vampires- and they opened stared at him, surprise on their face.

Let them talk. Why should he care what they chose to say behind his back.

Before he made it to his room, Sorin found himself wandering to the guest room that had been Elizabeth's. Moving mechanically, Sorin trailed his fingers over her furniture, feeling the smooth wood beneath his fingers. He remembered how much time he'd spend in here when he'd come and talk to her, either to vent or to have a simple conversation as he enjoyed both her insight and her teasing, which he would return in equal if only to see her face light up.

“I'm sorry.” Sorin laid down on her bed wearily and fell asleep in the familiar space.

* * *

 

Sorin woke up to the sensation of fingers on his cheek. When he shot up out of the bed, jumping to his feet, ready to protect himself, there was nothing to be seen. At some point while he'd been asleep the candles had been blown out, leaving the only light source to be the lightning flashing outside the window, brightening the room at intervals and casting dark shadows in the corners. Seconds later there was a boom of thunder that shook the floor and the walls.

The small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and alerted him that something was off in the room. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning the room.

“Who's in here?” he asked, voice raspy and low. “Show yourself.”

Something moved behind him and he spun on his heel, baring his fangs in warning. There was nothing there that he could see, but he still felt whatever it was around him. It was circling him, sizing him up, and Sorin didn't take well to being treated like prey.

Whatever it was lashed out and wrapped its hands around Sorin's throat. They were surprisingly strong and frigid.

Sorin drew his sword, swinging around.

Behind him stood a gaunt woman would might have been pretty if she wasn't mostly transparent and currently looking at him with blank, hollow eyes that had a slight glow that stood out in the dark.

A geist. Not an uncommon sight in Innistrad. There were plenty on this plane.

There was a part of Sorin that hoped that Elizabeth had tried to contact him, but it was a ridiculous notion.

“Away with you,” he commanded with a wave of his free hand, dissipating the spirit. It shrieked as it vanished. “Thank-you for your cooperation.” He sheathed his sword.

Sorin ran a hand through his hair. He needed to leave. He had made a mistake coming back to Innistrad so soon. Sorin's mind was a fog of emotion that needed to shake off; anger, regret, confusion. Any moment he spent not actively doing something, his thoughts inevitably went back to his human life and what he had lost. Or rather, what had been taken from him.

He decided then that he would leave at first opportunity. He would go back to Zdena, or he would travel and visit other planes. Either way, he didn't intend on remain on Innistrad for long.

* * *

**III**

The years passed. Three hundred. Nine hundred. A thousand. They all blended together, and Sorin lost track of how exactly how long he had been living for. Time became irrelevant to him. He simply traveled and experienced, watched planes rise, fall, and rise again in different ways. He could even recall when he and other Planeswalkers lost a large amount of their power when the even called the Mending happened. They were no longer godlike beings roaming around the multiverse doing whatever they pleased. There were consequences to their actions. They could be killed.

Sorin slowly began to come to terms with what he had become, even began to embrace it. The idea of being dependent on blood and knowing that no matter how much power he managed to garner he would still have to drink it if he wanted to keep living was still irksome. He'd looked for alternative means and ways to rid himself of it, but nothing had ever come from it. He'd even swallowed his pride and his disdain enough to ask Edgar about it. He'd revived scathing remarks for his trouble.

Eventually he'd simply dropped it completely.

Of course, Edgar and most of the other vampires of Innistrad had never forgiven him for his method of intervention regarding how they chose to feed on the humans of the plane. They had nearly wiped them all out and it was only by Sorin's decision to estrange himself in the form of a creation did it keep the balance where it should be. He felt no regret for his actions. It had been for their own good. If he hadn't, the vampires would have turned on themselves when there wasn't a human left for them to feed upon.

Avacyn kept the peace, granting humans a way to protect themselves from the things that might hunt them. It had been an effective method between herself and the spells he'd worked into the religion that worshiped her for years. Until she had vanished, that was.

And that was the exact reason why he was there now.

Sorin appeared in the middle of a dark forest under the light of the low hanging Hunter's Moon. A chilly breeze pulled lightly at his hair and the tails of his long leather coat. He reached out with his senses, felt for anything that stood out as unusual or threatening near him. He found something not far from where he was, and Sorin took off at a long stride through the trees, listening and watching for what he felt.

It didn't take him long to find the source and he frowned with disapproval. A few feet away from where he stood, Sorin saw two vampires. One of them stood behind a young girl that was likely not much older than thirteen, if not younger going by her diminutive stature, and another stood in front of her, looming over her. Even with the obvious threat, the girl was putting on a good show at being defiant when even most adults would be pissing themselves in fear.

“What are you doing?” Sorin asked, deciding to make his presence known and enjoying the look of dread that passed over the vampires' faces as he stalked towards them. “Attaching little girls now? It's truly astonishing just how low some of you lot can stoop.”

The one that stood in front of the girl, a female with a nasty twist to her thin lips, lifted her chin and glared at him. “Why would you care, Sorin, you're not here often enough to even pretend you'd give a damn if one little human died.”

Sorin nearly rolled his eyes. Truly? Did they have no survival instinct at all? Their reckless feeding habits was why he had created Avacyn in the first place, and the second that she's gone, they go right back to their old ways.

“Because if you have listened to anything I've said you would understand. I don't have the time or the patience to deal with this.” Sorin towered over the three of them, and in a single gesture towards the vampires, drained the life out of them. Their bones and skin fell to the ground, nothing but empty husks. Sorin dusted off his hands and looked towards the child.

She blinked large dark eyes up at Sorin, her face grubby and dusted with freckles, and a long mess of dark hair threatened to take over it. She was dressed in a nightgown and a coat, both covered in dirt and leaves from walking through the woods.

“Thank-you,” she said, still staring up at him.

Sorin waved her off and turned to leave, but before he could, a small hand shot out and latched onto his coat sleeve. He stopped and looked down at her. He wanted to be annoyed, but her expression was innocent, open and honest, and he couldn't muster the emotion. He was not particularly a fan of children, but he wasn't so cold-hearted that he could resist such an attempt at a cherubic nature.

“Can you help me get back home?” she asked, holding onto his sleeve like a vice. “I don't want to stay here on my own.”

Sorin opened his mouth to deny her, but closed it with a frustrated sigh. “Fine.”

The girl beamed up at him with all the intensity of the sun and began to tug him in the general direction of what she thought was towards her home. “I think it's this way.”

Sorin sighed again and followed her dutifully, shaking his head.

* * *

Are you sure this is the right direction, girl?”

“Valeria,” she retorted from behind Sorin, half slung over his shoulder. “My name is Valeria. Just letting you know.”

By the fifth or sixth time she had tripped over some tree branch or another littering the forest floor, Sorin had hefted her into his arms and tossed her over his shoulder to solve the issue. Valeria had made a fuss at first, but apparently accepted her fate, if unhappily.

“Right,” Sorin muttered, “Valeria, has anyone ever told you that you are perhaps, a bit too trusting? You are aware that you're traveling with a vampire, the very sort of thing that nearly killed you earlier. Maybe you should try and not upset me.”

He felt her shrug and she crooked her legs, nearly smacking him in the face. “Well, my parents say that I've always been precocious.”

“Precociousness and naivety come hand in hand?” Sorin asked, dryly. “Wondering around the woods at night while anything can harm you. Very precocious., yes.”

Valeria huffed. “I didn't mean to go so far out. I couldn't sleep.”

“Evidently.”

Valeria was quiet for a short, blissful moment before she was speaking again. “Your name is Sorin, right?”

“Yes.”

“Sorin Markov?”

“The same, yes.”

“I didn't know that you existed,” Valeria admitted, hanging there limply. “No one's seen you in a long time. Or so I've heard all the adults saying. They say that you're very old. One of the oldest. Scary, too.”

“And yet you chose to trust me.” She was odd. “Why?”

“Because you could have just let those other vampires kill me, but you killed them instead. And all this time you could do it, but you don't. That's why,” Valeria answered earnestly.

Too trusting, Sorin thought again, but he appreciated her honesty and tenacity. Zdena wouldn't have approved, but then again, she didn't approve of a lot. Too human, she would have reminded him. Those pesky human emotions, like affection for a feisty little girl.

They reached the edge of the forest and where a small village sat.

“This is it,” Valeria announced.

Sorin sat Valeria back down onto her feet gently. She smiled at him.

She gestured for him to lean down, which he did with mild confusion, and she pressed a chaste kiss on his cold cheek. “Thank-you again.”

As Sorin straightened, uncertain on how to react to her thankfulness, he could feel the faintness of the protective barriers around the village and saw the moat and Hawthorn trees that the houses surrounded. This was as far as he was willing to put himself at risk. The last thing he wanted was to have some scared villager swinging Hawthorn branched at his head and accusing him of things he wasn't intending on doing. Valeria would be fine.

“I hope I see you again. I like you,” Valeria said, before she took off towards her house.

“Not likely,” he replied when she was out of earshot.

He had other things to take care of on Innistrad and then it was back to his original task; find Ugin and Nahiri. It wouldn't be an easy job.

A thankless job, perhaps.

Sorin began his long track towards Thraben.


End file.
